


Out of the Blue

by JaneyB33



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Din the Dad, Eventual Smut bc that's just what happens in these things, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Season Spoilers, Sexual Content, Violence, family building, this man deserves a hug dammit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneyB33/pseuds/JaneyB33
Summary: A compassionate heart can go a long way, including toward the unexpected. Inherently that isn't always a bad thing though.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (TV Series)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm new to the fandom, so please be easy on me, but I absolutely LOVE this show and just can't shake the urge to write some fic starring our favorite Mando, green baby, and of course, you! I'm not a perfect writer, just in it for the fun! Possible slow burn, but I'm also impatient as HECK so ya know, we'll see how long I can restrain myself lol Kudos and Comments are always appreciated! Enjoy :) (I told myself I would stop posting things at 3AM but look at me asdgdssf)

* * *

About twenty feet away, just bordering the reaches of the campfire light, was a green little thing emerging from the darkness of the woods. You only got a peek of their small face before they had fumbled to the ground, letting out an adolescent, helpless wail that had you on your feet in seconds. You had no idea where they had come from, looking around your surroundings and expecting someone else to show up. No one did. The little bundled body you cradled in your arm kept squirming, whimpering and holding its arms toward the depths of the woods as if reaching for an invisible body. With the turn of their cheek, you could see cuts scraping their face and forehead accompanied with a light layer of smeared, green blood. 

They were _so_ persistent in reaching for the woods, the same direction they had presumably come from. It was confusing, and you wanted to sit down and treat those wounds right then and there, but there was this - _force,_ almost pulling you to walk forward. Whether it be a gut feeling or something else, it left you to abandon your fire and likewise the dinner roasting over it. 

You wandered through forest with nothing but astral and moon light to paint your path. The Child at no point dropped their stubby, quivering arms, only moved them in specific directions that ultimately you obliged. You were following directions of a mysterious toddler you had just met, yet the most bizarre part of it all was there wasn’t a moment you second guessed any of it. Instinct told you to worry, to feel afraid, not for what you were chasing but for what might happen if you didn’t. A sense of _rushed_ urgency had kicked your legs into a sprint, and even if you had noticed you wouldn’t have been able to tell when it happened. It just _was_ and you just _felt._ For now, that’s all your mind for some reason could possibly focus on, that and the non-verbal directions of the little green creature in your arms. 

That’s how you had eventually come across a starship, quiet, cold, _dark._ The sight of it alerted you, bringing your breath to a shallow shudder as your legs slowed to a stop. You gawked upon it, adjusting your glasses that had scooted down your nose from your spontaneous race for - _for this_. 

Why this? Why any of this?

It was the first time you had bothered to question your actions, but the whimpering coming from your arms reminded you to continue. The little creature was full of distress, sadness in their large eyes and a droop in those disproportionately elongated ears. It tugged at your heartstrings. 

The loading dock was lowered, the interior of the ship becoming more visible as you circled around to the back end. Unfortunately visibly was still limited, a distinct line being drawn from where the roof cut off any natural light. It made it look like some ominous cave, as if anything could reach out and snatch you right up then and there. But before your imagination had the chance to run wild, it was impossible to miss the pair of legs poking out from the shadows, and that grabbed your attention more than anything. The Child let out loud distressed whine, resulting in you to draw your own breath and rush up the dock and into the ship. 

“Sir?” Your voice rasped as you got to your knees. The baby wriggled from your grip, lurching your chest forward as they fumbled away. They squealed, tripping over their robes and landing their tiny, three-clawed hands on the Man’s chest. It was too dark to make out anything more than a silhouette no matter how much you squint your eyes. Thankfully you made a habit of never taking off your backpack, your supplies were a part of you and as shown in these last handful of moments, it’s never known when you’re going to be taking off in a haste. 

The pack fell next to you in a thud, unzipping and reaching in specific pockets via muscle memory and pulling out exactly what you needed. A flashlight. You aimed it at the ceiling and flicked the switch, the light hit the roof and spread among the entirety of the deck. The first thing your eyes settled on was the Man below you. Metal armored parts of his body, weapons strapped at his hip, and if you weren’t so busy just _staring_ you might have noticed a rifle sprawled off to the side. Most notable of all was that helmet though, a silver, reflective metal with a t-cut visor so dark it was impossible to see anything below it. You saw how the Child had his paws on him almost protectively. They had given the Man a gentle shake, or at least tried too, and when no response came, they turned their gaze up to you, helpless. 

“Okay, little guy,” you breathed, reeling yourself back in, foreign emotions and all, “I’m trusting something as cute as you wouldn’t stick around with someone who isn’t worth helpin’. Is this your papa or somethin’?” The Child chirruped and sunk their chin into the neck of their robe. Your features tugged sympathetically. “It’s okay,” you spoke softly, leaning your body over the Man, “let’s see what the issue is…” 

Carefully you had begun patting him down, and it was only when you touched his lower left abdomen that you felt that the clothing was soaked. A flip of your hand revealed that it was blood, and a lot of it. Your brow hardened, and once you focused back on that spot, the way his clothing was darkened another shade couldn’t have been more obvious. 

How long has he been like this? What caused the injury? How serious was the injury, did it hit anything internal? These were always the questions that came to mind when dealing with a patient who suffered these types of wounds, but usually there was someone around or the person themself was still awake to answer them. Your hand shot up to his neck, digging your fingers beneath his collar to feel for his pulse. It wasn’t as active as you wanted it to be, but at least it was there, and that was enough for you. 

Your hands went for his helmet, your fingers grazing the cool rim of the metal and hooking beneath it. Almost immediately a pair of little green hands touched yours which brought you to stop. Your brows furrowed, moving your gaze to meet the Child’s large eyes in some silent communication... Slowly your hands let go, but you still slipped one to the nape of the Man’s neck then slithered your fingers to feel the back of his head. You were surprised to feel short locks of thick hair, a subconscious assumption that he’d be similarly bald like the Child was. This definitely was not a preferred method of checking for injury, but at least you didn’t feel blood or see any when you retracted your hand. 

From there on, your primary focus was his abdomen, and silently prayed he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of all it to draw any one of those colorful weapons from his belt. You only removed what you had to, and got to work diligently with the tools at your disposal. It was enough to clean and stop any major bleeding, and thankfully he did stay asleep even through the worst of it. You were able to stitch up what you quickly recognized to be a stab wound from some sort of jagged edged blade. His flesh was ripped and torn ugly rather than sliced clean. It made the task difficult but not impossible, not for you. With your last bacta patch, the wound was sealed up for now. It would need to be taken off and replaced, but that would be for a later time. The main concern now was blood loss. He was still breathing, you made sure to check every so often, now you just needed to keep it that way. 

The entire time, the Child had never left his side. Despite how bloody your hands got and how invasive you needed to be, the little squirt stayed huddled under the crook of the Man’s shoulder. They so clearly cared about this masked Man, and to have wandered as far as they did to find you with those tiny legs, it was no surprise when they had eventually fallen asleep toward the end of it. You wondered how the little thing even managed to find you… Maybe you should take the opportunity to clean their own scratches and-

Voices. Distant, but many and growing louder. 

_What caused the injury?_ Your previous thoughts came back to you, echoing in your head as you stared into the night. You could only assume this Man was attacked, and what else but someone with intentions be doing way out here at this hour? You didn’t know anyone, therefore everyone was a suspect (aside from the Child whose hands were too small to carry a weapon anyway). Not just for the Man and the Child, but for the worry over your own safety, your heartbeat thrummed violently against your chest.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and hurried to the edge of the ship, looking around for some sort of switch that would close the ramp. 

_Click_

Nothing.

_Click_

Something hissed, you weren’t sure what.

_Click_

The fucking wall moved, panels pulling apart to reveal a haul of weapons. You gawked longer than you should have, blinking at the display of blasters, melees, and - _explosives?_ Your wide-eyed gaze hovered to the Man still on the ground, the very man you probably saved from death and now began to wonder if he often delivered it to others. You looked at the Child next, small and curled into him - it was the sight you needed to remind yourself that this guy was definitely worth saving and you _totally_ weren’t going to regret any of it. 

Finally you smacked the big button that retracted the ramp, sealing closed with a hydraulic _hiss._ Of course it would be the big button, why wouldn’t it be the big button, _that_ should have been the obvious choice. 

_“Augh_.” The clearness of your voice surprised yourself. Sounds of nature could be so - _clashing_ and loud, but you grew used to it over time. To have it suddenly cut off was almost unsettling. It left you with only your own breathing to fill your ears amongst an ominous silence. While the outside voices no longer reached you, they were still out there, somewhere, and the waiting was absolutely dreadful.

Okay mysterious Man, maybe it is time to wake up… And hopefully he’s a good guy.

Something of a whimper pulled from your own throat as you approached him, getting on one knee and gently grabbing his shoulders. “ _Hey_ ,” you nudged, “hey, can you hear me?” Nothing, although you did manage to wake the baby. 

_BAM_

Your breath hitched as tightly as you had gripped the Man’s shoulders, both you and the Child jolting from the noise. The little thing began to whine. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you softly shushed, though you very well could have also been talking to yourself. 

Gentle taps came next, something, or someone(s), hitting the sides of the ship as if to examine it. 

“I know you’re in there, Mando! Didn’t think it was like you to cower in your ship!” The voice was muffled, but you heard it nonetheless. You stood absolutely still as if they would hear even a twitch of the finger.

_BAM_

Your shoulders jolted again.

“You took my brother, now I’m going to take you and that little _rat!_ ” The guttural growl that laced through this stranger’s voice made for an all but convincing argument to open the hatch.

What should you do? 

_BAM BAM BAM_

What _could_ you do? 

“ _Open up_ -!” 

The hatch began to lower, and it was because _you_ had rushed over to slam that big fucking button. 

Oh no. 

Okay but _why_ did you do that? You had no plan. Zero plan. You idiot.

In a panicked fit, you hit it again, several times in fact, slapping it repetitively causing the ramp to move up and down awkwardly and without rhythm. It must’ve been an odd view from outside, it certainly rendered a silence aside from the hydraulics of the ramp moving in and out. Eventually the thing just locked in place, leaving a crack only about a foot or so wide. 

…

“...Could you stop hitting my ship, please?” 

Your small, female voice shocked the outside assailants. The air was tense, muddled thick - you could almost feel the confusion in their half-steps. 

“Uh - _your_ ship?” 

“Yes?” You retorted, practically mockingly. “So can you please stop makin’ a ruckus. I-” your gaze shifted back to the Child who returned your look with their own wide-eyed gander, cocking their head, “I have a baby, and I’m trying to put her to sleep.” 

Every pause they made you gnaw at your lip, _Maker_ how did you end up here? 

“Why don’t you lower the hatch?” Another voice came, though undoubtedly were they part of the same pack. 

“ _Why?_ ” You repeated harshly. “Why would I! You - You come to _my_ ship during the _middle_ of the night and bang on the walls like you own the place!”

“Uh-”

“Not to mention, you woke up my baby! Do you know how long it took me to put her to bed?!” 

Who knew fear could make you the actor. 

“O-Okay, okay, sorry ma’am.” 

Relief didn’t come to you yet, watching the metal wall in front of you as if you were looking through it, waiting to see what came next. You could hear them mumbling among each other, whispering and moving around. It was quiet for too long. 

“Have you seen a Mandalorian?” 

“No. Why would I? It’s the middle of the damn night.” 

Cue more mumbling.

“Now - how do we know this isn’t his ship?” 

“Well, did you see him come in here?” 

“...No, but we-” 

“So you just find any starship and _assume_ it belongs to this _Mandalorian_ you’re looking for without any proof? Honestly,” you scoffed, “shame on you all…” You continued, your faceless voice coming from the crack between the ramp and frame of the ship in an endless scold. The words kept coming, and honestly you didn’t know how to shut up, anxiety just riled up your speech, rendering it never ending. Whether it be from the guilt or the insufferable nagging, eventually one of them spoke again, the same voice that spoke first.

“ _Okay!_ Okay… We’ll leave.” His voice was lathered with exhaustion, annoyance.

You didn’t care, if anything, the sounds of their disappearing footsteps set you at ease, but you were careful not to sigh in relief too loud. Your shoulders drooped, feeling the sudden ache in your lower back from how tight you had been holding your posture. Slowly you had looked back to the Child, then to the mysterious Man on the floor. 

The Mandalorian, apparently. 

Was this who that was? You’ve heard the tales but never seen one. Whoever this guy was, Mandalorian or not, better not have been a waste of your sanity.

* * *

The ceiling of the Razor Crest through a tinted visor was a familiar sight, but the cool breeze, a chill felt against skin that wasn’t often exposed, was _not_. It nipped at the Mandalorian’s awakening, his hand slowly slipping to where he felt so cold. Gloved fingers grazed over his abdomen, hearing the crinkle of - something not part of his normal wear. Despite his disorientation, it was enough to encourage him to sit up. He didn’t quite regret it, even though pain pinched at his gut, and placed a hand behind himself for support. 

The whole of his helmet tilted down, looking at what his fingers had earlier grazed over. Parts of his clothing were moved, pulled from being secure to reveal his side. The blood surrounding his clothes didn’t go unnoticed, nor how there was a fresh bacta patch placed over his wound. 

The wound he received when getting stabbed. 

The memories came back one after the next, and with it, questions. Most importantly, 

“Kid?” His voice was hoarse, disgruntled and distorted from the modulator. His head shot from one side to the next (which at all didn't help the spinning vertigo), and the slight disarray of his ship influenced his own aggressive panic. “ _Kid-!_ ” 

“Hello- _oOH!_ ”

From his hip, a blaster was drawn and pointed at the random voice coming from behind. The Mandalorian had his other hand over his wound, the pain blazing beyond just a pinch, especially with how quickly he had swiveled his body to face the… woman. The unknown woman holding _his_ kid. 

“W-Woah! Hey, hey don’t shoot!” You held one hand defensively, your other arm being bent secure around the Child. Speaking of whom, he began to squirm at the sight of the Mandalorian awake and alive. 

“Put him down.”

“I-”

“ _Now_.” 

And you did so without question. Almost immediately once the Child was on his own two feet, he hobbled as fast as he could to the Mandalorian. He never once removed his sights nor aim away from you, the stranger woman aboard his ship, even as the kid practically threw himself into his lap, wrapping his short arms as much as he could around him and nuzzling into his gut. The Man's hand came up from the bacta patch and instead palmed the Child’s back, holding him protectively in place. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

“I-I found you unconscious last night, you - you were bleeding out pretty bad.” You shuffled from foot to foot anxiously. “I… thought you might not make it.” 

The Mandalorian tightened his grip on the blaster, almost to emphasize that he had it pointed at you, ready to fire. He snarled, “So you could raid my ship?” 

“ _What -_ no! No!” You shook your head. “I was concerned - I - I’m the one that cleaned you up. I stopped most of the bleeding and stitched up your wound.” Your eyes flicked to the exposed patch. “It… was a pretty bad gash. That bacta patch will only do so much, I’m out of any more, so if you don’t have any of your own, I have some regular bandages you can have to later replace it.” 

He was quiet and considering, the blandness of his helmet leaving you to guess what he could be thinking. There was sunlight leaking through the ship, a beam of early morning light shining through the cracked opening of the docking platform. 

“How - long was I out?” 

“A few hours? At least since I had found you... Are - Are you a Mandalorian?” 

“Yes.” 

“There were some people looking for you, shortly after I patched you up they came banging on the ship. I got them to go away though.” 

Slowly he started to lower his weapon, but never allowed himself to fully relax. “How?” 

He watched as you visibly hesitated and averted your eyes in some sort of coy fidget. You explained the whole thing, how your panic fueled everything you sputtered out, how you claimed this ship to be yours and scolded those thugs like you were their grandmother. He was… something between confused and oddly impressed, not that he showed it, mostly because the entire story was, 

“Unbelievable…” For the first time he allowed a tilt in his helm to glance at the Child in his lap. 

“I know,” you replied in a similar murmur, rolling your thumb into your palm, “it sounds dumb. But luckily they were just as dumb because it _worked_. And,” you looked beyond the Mandalorian, “I’ve been stuck in here since. Pretty sure I broke the loading dock.”

The filtered sigh that rasped from the Man provoked a cringed smile from yourself. 

“ _Sorry._ ” The sight of him trying to push himself to his feet further put a grit to your teeth. "Be careful-" The initiating step coming from you caused a visible stillness from him. You paused, but proceeded, this time slower. "Please." You spoke softly and approached just as such, hesitating to help him to his feet. 

He accepted your help, blaster in one hand and the Child cradled in his other arm, and slowly walked to a crate to sit. He couldn't help the grunting, every minuscule movement jabbed at his side. But through them came a, "Thank you." 

"Don't thank me yet. Something like that is going to take longer than just these past hours to properly heal." You took a step back once he had settled himself, giving the Man space and adjusted your glasses. "I can give you something for the pa-"

He wasn't looking at you, for the first time since his awakening, he didn't have his absolute - what you assumed - gaze set on you like a raptorial shyyyo. His helm was faced directly at the child, and for a long time at that.

The sudden drop in his tone caught you by surprise as he spoke slowly, _threateningly._ "He... was injured."

It wasn't a question, it was a realization _,_ one that was clearly given away by the small band aid on the Child's cheek. You looked between the Man and the green baby in his arm, your lips parted, delayed in forming words. "Um, just a few scratches. He didn't bleed too much, but still I..." You tensed as you watched his hand clench around the blaster, hearing the way the leather of his glove caused friction against the metal. 

"He bled?" 

While he was no longer pointing the gun at you, you never shook the apprehension from this whole situation. He was protective over this little one, that much was clear, and it was likely that he was just unsure about you as you were about him. Choose your words wisely, you reminded yourself. 

"He seemed more worried about you than anything. He's the one that led me here." 

There was a shift in the Mandalorian's helm, and it was only noticeable because you were already looking. 

You slid your hands up and down your hips, unsure what to do with them. "Don't know how he found me, but luckily he did. Brave little thing." 

The Child pawed at the neck of Man's cape, garbling baby talk and completely unaffected by his already cleaned up scratches. All he seemed to care about was that this man was now normally breathing and not bleeding out on the verge of death. 

“Those people,” the moment you grabbed the attention of that visor, it reminded you to once again, think before you speak, “one of them said you had taken their brother?” The look you gave his weapons haul, still opened and displayed for all to see - and it was all but inconspicuous - was telling of your assuming thoughts. 

The Mandalorian didn’t hesitate to reply. “He was a bounty, a wanted criminal.” That information had just about put you at ease, and maybe you had made it more noticeable than intended, the way your eyes and shoulders relaxed. Naturally you followed the tilt of the Man’s helmet, which led your gaze to an in-use carbonite freezer pod. In it, _a fucking body._

You gasped loudly and shot your face down, even throwing your hands up to block your left peripheral all together. Your body stood as rigid as a desert plant, and you didn’t even want to peel your eyes off the floor to look at the Mandalorian. Stars were you glad you managed to be completely and utterly obviously to _that_ while you were stuck in here. 

“O-Okay, w-well, I should really be collecting some stuff to help with your wound.” With jittery legs, you paced forward and passed the Man, standing expectantly by the loading dock. “Can - you let me out? I’ll be back with it.” 

“I can’t stay. I need to leave. I doubt your story will hold up very long." 

Something decompressed, but it wasn’t the loading dock, rather the actual hatch used for exiting the ship. 

You turned on your heel and approached it, placing your hand on the doorway. You looked back at the metal man. “It will only take a moment, please, that injury is bad and the only reason you’re not feeling everything it’s got to give is because of what I put on it before sealing over a bacta patch.” As much as this whole situation - _was what it was_ , you still had a thorough want to make sure he healed properly. And the fact that he had a child made you want to ensure it. “I’ll be back before you can say Meiloorun fruit pie.” The breeze flowing in from the opened hatch pushed back your hood, revealing all of your face, and with it, the timid smile you mustered to offer. 

He didn’t argue, something you took as a silent agreement, and stepped out of the ship. It would just take a moment, and not a moment longer, to gather what you needed. And surely nothing would happen, this past night has been unexpected enough. What else could the universe possibly throw?


End file.
